


exist in the chaos

by jill_ian



Series: also on tumblr [3]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: M/M, POV Outsider, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:13:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22780006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jill_ian/pseuds/jill_ian
Summary: Billy was an asshole. Why did it sound like Steve was scared?
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Series: also on tumblr [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1623685
Comments: 11
Kudos: 213





	exist in the chaos

Billy was an asshole. Max had learned that quickly. 

Figured it out the first time she was late by a mere three minutes and the Camaro tore out of the movie theatre parking lot without her. Killed any and all hope that she’d be gaining a sibling, maybe a friend through the disaster that was her parents’ divorce, her mom’s quick remarriage. 

Billy was bark and bite and broken glass that cut her with one look, one word. Jagged. Rough. Sharp.

Billy was an asshole, but it didn’t mean that she liked the fact that he fought monsters now, too. 

Usually, he was more than able to hold his own, like he’d been doing this longer than the rest of them. She watched him tease Steve about it on more than one occasion, watched Steve roll his eyes despite the smile that pulled at his lips. The smile that always seemed to pull at his lips when Billy was around, didn’t when he wasn’t.

Tonight, though, Billy had been taken by surprise. Steve had been at the front of the group, Billy at the back. Just far enough back that the demodog that jumped from the woods had been able to tackle him without hitting anyone else. 

Steve was quick to get to him, swing at the goddamn thing like he was trying to hit homeruns, push it off Billy when it went limp after his third Grand Slam. 

Billy had his left arm clutched tight to his chest when Steve stood him up, jacket ripped all the way down, shoulder, collarbone bloodied, torn where the demodog had taken a bite, maybe two. It didn’t have to be said that they needed to get him back to the house. They all just followed when Steve secured an arm around his waist, followed in the tracks where Billy dragged his feet through the dirt, went off in the direction they came.

Max could tell that Steve was speaking, could hear the hum of his voice, low beneath the leaves that crunched beneath their feet, the wind that shook the branches on the trees. She couldn’t quite make out the words, but his tone was unmistakable. The pitch of his voice. The cadence of his speech. 

Billy was an asshole. Why did Steve sound like he was scared?

Max didn’t stop in the living room like the rest of them did, chose instead to follow a few steps behind Steve as he pulled Billy down the hall and into the bathroom. She stopped a safe distance away, careful, stared at the half open door, the light it allowed into the hall. 

Billy’s breath was loud in her ears, a slow, labored wheeze. She could picture the way his teeth were gritted when he said, “Close the door,” between a harsh inhale and something that sounded like a groan.

“Sit down first,” Steve said, soft, easy. A sharp contrast to the way he had said the same words to Dustin the week before, when he’d fallen off his bike and gotten road rash all the way up his leg. Sat him down at the table, smacked him on the side of the head for being so dumb. 

Billy must have listened in the way the door moved a few seconds later, a lazy slide against the tile floor that only managed to close it another inch or two. Max took another brave step forward, ears perked again at the sound of Steve’s voice. 

“Baby, you gotta breathe.”

She had half a mind to hold back the gasp that threatened to fall from her lips.

Billy was an asshole. She needed both hands and both feet and all the bones in her body to count the number of times she’d heard him be called as much. 

No one called him baby.

“Hurts,” Billy mumbled, another small, broken sound.

“I know. I know, but just,” the floor creaked like someone was moving, creaked again when it settled a second later, “try, okay? Follow me. Like we did the other night.”

On the drop of a dime, the room went totally silent. The air felt heavy, thick without any noise to fill it.

Three more short, quick, curious steps found Max at the edge of the door, holding onto the frame, tilting her head to peek in, just slightly.

Billy was sat on the edge of the tub, Steve on his knees in front of him. Steve’s hands were high on Billy’s neck, holding him steady, keeping him close, their foreheads tilted together.

“There you go,” Steve whispered, calm, soothing, let his thumb hover over the shell of Billy’s ear. “Just like that.”

Billy’s eyes were closed, eyelashes a thick fan across his cheeks, breaths long, slow, even. 

Max had never seen someone so at peace covered in so much blood.

Had never seen Billy at peace ever.

Billy was an asshole, but maybe he was something else, too. Just maybe.

**Author's Note:**

> based on the dialogue prompt, "Close the door."
> 
> i'm over on tumblr @holdenduckfield


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